


Stick and stones

by orphan_account



Series: Tidbits [9]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, Gen, Hyperacusis, Short One Shot, Snippets, being overwhelmed by sounds, noediting we die like mne
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-24
Updated: 2019-12-24
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:49:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21936997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Some nights grew too much
Relationships: Bruce Wayne & Damian Wayne
Series: Tidbits [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1541653
Comments: 7
Kudos: 156





	Stick and stones

Some nights grew too much.

Some nights, every sound scraped at the edge of his brain, diverted his attention until everything else faded in the cacophony. Waves upon waves of information, mess of words, jumbled phrases overlapping, footsteps, cars, yells and laughs came crashing down on him.

It was bearable, until it wasn’t.

It was bearable, until he could see the irritated frown of his conversation partner, as nothing that came out of his mouth actually reached Damian’s ears. He could hear in perfect clarity the discussion the people a few meters over were having. He could hear the _clink clink clink_ of the champagne glasses. He could hear the faint thrum of the speakers, the wailing of the mic. The swell of classical music, the duel of violins.

But for the love of him, he could not hear a word the man was saying. He tried, but it seemed to slip, just away from his grasp.

His other senses were still in perfect working order, at first.

Until his heartbeat came into play.

Once it did, the other senses started to dim. The world took on a weird off-color tinge. Smell and taste disappeared altogether. Touch either barely registered or was overwhelming.

Small insignificant sounds became too loud, loud sounds disappeared.

Damian took his leave.

He couldn’t hear a word that came out of his own mouth, either. He must have spoken too loudly, because the couple a few meters over stopped talking, and turned to stare.

The absence of their conversation created a dissonance in the wall of sounds. A sense of vertigo, like standing at the edge of a deep chasm. An awareness of the emptiness, but no real comprehension of its depth. He gulped and started to walk.

Some nights grew too much.

It wasn’t scary or especially painful. Simply weird. Unpleasant.

Unbearable.

He exited the ballroom, finding little to no relief in the brightly lit corridor. Too many people, too many foreign sounds. Difficult to ignore, even as he shouldered his way past.

He stumbled onto the balcony, then over the rail, climbing down as fast as he could.

His feet hit Wayne Manor’s soil. Damian found a convenient corner to wedge himself in, between a potted plant and the front porch. He closed his eyes.

At first, the relative silence felt worse. Then, it gradually grew tolerable again. 

It had not yet slipped into relief when he felt, more than heard or saw, the presence looming over him.

“Father.” He acknowledged. It was barely a whisper, but the loudness of his own voice nearly made him flinch. Nearly. He had been trained better than that. Could fight through the experience, if required. He found himself hoping Father wouldn’t notice.

Damian waited for an answer that never came. After a moment, he forced himself to open his eyes.

Father had noticed. He always did.

With telegraphed, though precise, movements, Father gently placed Damian’s headphones over his ears. Their weight was comforting, the way they muted the sounds of the night even more so. He raised an eyebrow in a silent question.

Damian nodded in answer.

The soil was wet, muddy, cold, and yet Father seemingly saw no issue in ruining his tuxedo, lowering himself to sit down next to him.

The gentle flow of the piano music filled his ears. Each soft note predictable.

For the first time that night, Damian took a full breath. He let his head fall on Father’s shoulder, the touch small, but comforting, the soft forehead kiss that followed even more so.


End file.
